Spires
by Paisleylace
Summary: Bad memories lead to bad impulses, and Malik's stuck dealing with the aftermath. Post-canon Thiefshipping oneshot, pre-established relationship.


Here have a very short kinda angsty Thiefshipping oneshot (though Bakura's in his true body so would that be Citronshipping?), where Bakura has Ryou-related issues and gets himself hurt. Also for no particular reason, I like to headcanon that post-canon Bakura somehow ends up with a hideous pug that he names Zorc. I know a lot of people like to headcanon him with a pet snake called Diabound, but ain't no rule saying he can't have two pets.

* * *

"You look like shit."

That was basically how they said 'hello' to each other every morning, but this time he sorely missed Bakura's mischievous grin in response. Bakura pushed past him and into their penthouse without a word, ignored his stupid pug dancing around his ankles and vanished into the bathroom. That left Malik with Ryou, who sighed and waited for Malik to invite him in before flopping face first on the nearest couch.

They were almost five hours late. He was used to mentally adding another hour or two to Bakura's promised return time whenever he disappeared to Ryou's place, for whatever reason he had, but one of them usually checked in before then to explain that they're _this close_ to beating some videogame boss and can't give up now or they'll never rescue the princess of whatever from the evil clutches of Sir 'Nobody Gives A Shit'.

Ryou sank into the pillows, so his voice was slightly muffled as he spoke. "Sorry about being so late. Something happened back at mine and we had to go to the hospital and Bakura's all freaked out."

Hospital? Ryou didn't seem hurt in the slightest, so that could only mean something had happened to Bakura. He couldn't imagine Ryou raising a fist in anger against him, and none of his friends would've been around to pick a fight, so either Bakura forgot how tall he wasn't again or...

"What kind of 'freaked out'?"

Ryou pushed himself back upright, giving the bathroom door a surprisingly sharp glare. "The kind that means I have to clean up my Monster World table _again_."

There was a loud thud from the bathroom, like Bakura had punched the wall, and Zorc let out a string of his favorite grumbling howls in response. No shattering glass or shampoo bottles being thrown around, so Malik stayed put. Ryou rolled his eyes and somehow managed to be loud without shouting. "You're more than welcome to come and join us!"

The door didn't open and after a few moments of silence, the little tisk sound Ryou made could've echoed. Malik knew Bakura and Ryou still had _plenty_ of issues to work out, but surely a _table_ couldn't have caused such a bitter reaction from him. He'd treated Bakura better after he picked (and lost) a fight with Jounouchi the first time they laid eyes on each other. He'd even patched him up afterwards, gently wiping his bleeding lip with a damp cloth without even a hint of anything beyond pure concern. And that was before Bakura had ever openly showed any feelings of remorse for how he'd treated his host. Might've kicked off that whole process, actually. Maybe he'll send Jounouchi a gift basket or something as thanks.

He vaguely remembered Monster World; Ryou had tried to get Malik into the non-corrupted version but he didn't have the patience for dice roll after dice roll. Leaving things up to chance like that was more Bakura's style. One thing he knew without a shadow of a doubt was that Ryou spent far too much time, money and effort on literally everything to do with the series.

If it hadn't been two years since they'd reunited, his first thought would've been that Bakura damaged it out of spite, or maybe just anger that he'd lost a game the two were playing. But two years of nightmares that didn't just involve fire and molten gold, and watching Bakura try and fail to hide his flinch whenever Ryou winced from wounds that never got the chance to heal right, made that impossible to believe now.

Ryou left not long after that, leaving Malik alone with just the sound of Zorc's increasingly distressed whines and his own attempts at getting Bakura to at least acknowledge he was even there. He gave up around midnight and slammed their bedroom door shut, laying wide awake until he heard the bathroom door creak open and Zorc's claws skittering across tile before it quickly closed again.

So his fucking pug was allowed to comfort him, but not Malik.

 _Fantastic._

* * *

He had maybe an hour's worth of restless sleep (when had he become so used to having someone else beside him that being alone was so intolerable?) and that was rudely interrupted by a cold wet nose smushed against his cheek. He was almost angry until he caught the scent of fresh brewed Saiidi tea in the air. Bakura never drank it, claiming it too bitter. It was one of the few things he and Rishid agreed on.

Somewhat begrudgingly, he scooped the squirmy dog into his arms and carried him to their kitchen. Bakura froze at the sight of him, for once actually looking like shit. His hair was a flat mess, the type only caused by frantically running your fingers through it over and over, and his eyes were red, eyelids puffy. There was a thin sheen of sweat across his forehead, his cheeks a little hollow. The scars under his eye looked irritated, like he'd been scratching at them again.

For what was definitely not the first time, but still as shocking a revelation as always, Malik was struck by just how _small_ Bakura really was.

Maybe starting on the offensive was a bad idea. "I got your dog."

"... Got your tea."

They traded, Bakura quickly settling down in a chair with Zorc nestled in his lap, and from over the top of his mug Malik could see the results of his trip to the hospital. His left hand was completely encased in bandages.

"Does that hurt?"

A mute nod was his only answer, so Malik wasted no time in digging out some of his own painkillers. He only used them when his back really flared up, so he had plenty to spare. Judging by his weight and age his dose should be...

He handed Bakura half a pill and he swallowed it down dry, without hesitating. Maybe he should've made him eat something first, but Bakura looked like he'd throw up if Malik even mentioned food. "You can have another one in six hours, I think."

"'Kay."

Then silence.

"It didn't hurt so much last time," he said suddenly. "I barely felt a thing."

Last time? At Malik's quizzical look Bakura's eyes fixed on the table, though they seemed far further away than that. "It hurts _so much_ , but he's more mad about the table getting stained than me wrecking his own damn _hand_!"

His voice became louder and shriller, until he nearly screamed at the end. The volume seemed to shock him as much as it did Malik and Zorc and he curled up into a ball on the chair, grabbing Zorc and hiding his face in his fur, shoulders shaking. He didn't cry; Malik had never seen him cry in person. This was perhaps the closest he'd ever came to seeing it. He didn't really want to.

Come to think of it, Ryou had a scar on his hand. Two thick gashes, one on his palm and one on the back. Sometimes he had to stop and massage it after using it for anything remotely strenuous, and especially when it was cold.

He didn't know what happened to Ryou, but he had a good enough idea. Something else happened at Ryou's place, a long time ago, something that Bakura saw fit to replicate on his own body for whatever reason.

Zorc took advantage at his master's sudden proximity and squirmed until he could assault Bakura's face with his tongue. "I don't get it. I don't get _him,_ " he muttered, even as the dog's enthusiastic slobbering forced him to smile, just a little.

Perfect, an excuse to shepherd him to the shower and clean up; he obviously hadn't before. As much as he lov- cared for Bakura, there was no way he was going to indirectly kiss a dog. It saved Bakura's ego from having to ask him too, since he doubted he wanted to risk getting his bandages wet.

This wasn't the first time he'd washed Bakura's hair for him (and he'd certainly had the favor returned in equal measure), and Bakura still shivered exactly how he thought he would as Malik ran his fingers through the knots in his hair and Malik briefly remembered where to gently scratch his scalp with his nails to get him completely helpless in his arms. Perhaps not right now though, since his eyes were shut as he pressed his forehead against Malik's shoulder. Not asleep just yet, but sorely needing it.

"Do you need to?"

"What?"

"Need to understand him, at least with this. I mean, if he doesn't care that much, maybe you can relax about it."

Bakura's voice was almost inaudible over the spray of water as he leaned back to look Malik in the eye. "I don't want to not care. I've had enough of not caring."

"I'm not saying that, but you can't beat yourself up about something you've been forgiven for forever. You'll just end up miserable."

At least, not this much. He kept that last part to himself, letting his fingers trail against Bakura's cheek as he spoke and cheering inwardly as he tilted his head further into the touch. But what Bakura said next put a dampener on that.

"How do you _know_ he's forgiven me, and he's not just hiding how he feels to keep the peace? He's lied like that all his life, even before I came along; it's second nature."

Malik didn't have an answer for him, at least not right then.

* * *

It took a little coaxing, but eventually he managed to get Bakura into bed. Initially hesitant about putting pressure on Malik's scars, but then relenting at Malik's insistence regardless, Bakura now lay sprawled across Malik. If he looked down he could see Bakura's face as he snuggled against his chest, arms desperately clinging to his torso and his grip strong despite the bandages. Malik left one hand rhythmically stroking his hair while the other wrapped around his thin waist, keeping him still and steady. It wasn't exactly a pleasant weight in his back's opinion, but Bakura was nowhere near as heavy as he believed himself to be. Maybe even too light; he was a messy eater but he still didn't eat all that much.

For a while, they lay there together in the room. The sun hadn't risen yet, so one of their lampshades was on. Just bright enough, but Malik could've been in complete darkness and not noticed as he tried to come up with an answer for Bakura. Eventually, one he hoped would work appeared.

"Listen, the longest I've ever seen him hold a grudge for was maybe five minutes and four of that was just because it took me four minutes to come up with a decent apology. If he didn't forgive you, he wouldn't be trying to spend so much time with you, right? He wouldn't want to be anywhere near you, let alone be alone with you."

Wait. "No, maybe he would. I-I mean, it'd be the easiest way to keep an eye on you if the others were still worried about you and..."

Great. Wonderful. That's totally gonna make him feel better! Shut UP Malik!

He felt rather than heard Bakura chuckle. "For all the times he's lied, he never did that to me when we were together."

"If you know that, then what's the problem now?"

"We're _not_ together. I don't know what's in his mind anymore. For all I know, he's taken a page out of my book and learned how easy it is to manipulate people..."

He could feel Bakura starting to curl up back into himself again. "More likely he remembered how absolutely _shit_ you were at manipulating people and decided it wasn't worth it. You were at my beck and call in Battle City, admit it."

The petulant glare that followed, even though it was nowhere near its usual ferocity, was a real sight for sore eyes and Malik couldn't help but kiss as much of Bakura's forehead as he could reach. He could feel his skin warming under his lips with each touch, no matter how much he complained.

Bakura never liked remembering just how many of Malik's orders he'd followed, no matter how many times he'd initially refused. "Listen, if you still want to make it up to him, I know a more traditional way. We can go get some paint or a new model or something later, like a gift. Put a big bow on it, use nice wrapping paper, he likes that kinda stuff."

Bakura hummed in response, the vibrations tickling Malik slightly. "He does need new oil paint..." he muttered as his eyelids slid shut. "Gifts are the best kind of bribery."

Something that sounded a little like a wheezy pig sneezing wiped whatever memory Malik had of what he was going to say in response, though maybe it was for the best since Bakura finally seemed relaxed enough to sleep. With a groan Malik let go of Bakura to help his dog up on the bed. Just this once, he thought, as the little pug settled against his masters.

He was just nodding off himself when Bakura whispered, his voice wavering with each word. "I didn't plan on doing this to my hand. It just kinda... happened. It was like a fog took over when I saw the castle spire and I couldn't stop thinking about what I did to him. Next thing I knew, there was blood _everywhere_."

Malik held him tighter. "I'll make sure you don't stab your arm again then."

"Thanks."

"And tell your shitty dog this is the only time he gets to sleep on our bed."

"Never."


End file.
